Chapter 187: Are You Really Going to Become a Knight?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 187: Are You Really Going to Become a Knight?
Watching a man like Encrid made people clench their fists instinctively.
Most of the soldiers felt the same way when they looked at him. They knew he had crawled his way up from the absolute bottom. They had witnessed his relentless efforts being rewarded right before their eyes.
Looking at Encrid, the crowd of soldiers—Vengeance included—clenched their fists. In those hands, they gripped spears, swords, and maces.
The soldiers banded together. They swung their weapons.
An unseasonable heat swept through the barracks once more.
“The soldiers seem even more driven than usual lately. Why are they suddenly acting like that?”
The atmosphere was different than before. Sensing this change viscerally, Encrid tossed out the question.
Hearing this beside him, Krais snorted.
“Are you asking because you really don't know?”
Would I ask if I already knew?
“The atmosphere around the market doesn't look good, so I'm going to go check it out.”
Instead of answering, Krais walked away. Well, passion and heat were words Encrid liked too. He didn't care about the reason. If they trained hard, it would eventually help save their own lives.
Thanks to that, the number of people coming to find him grew.
“Please spar with me!”
A similar thing had happened before, and Encrid welcomed those who sought him out. If there was one difference from before...
Thud, clack.
...it was that every fight ended in just one or two exchanges.
There had to be some challenge for it to be a real fight. But now, their openings were glaringly obvious, and his body moved reflexively in response. There was no need to even strike back against a downward slash; a simple shove of his training sword was enough.
The newly learned swordsmanship was based on orthodox sword forms. Stepping to the left while swinging the sword to the right created a blind spot in the opponent's vision. Humans naturally feel anxious when they cannot see, so they immediately turn their bodies to eliminate the blind spot.
And in that brief opening—a counter-thrust.
It was a simple two-step motion, but it worked flawlessly time and again, even against those at the level of the Border Guard.
“You've changed.”
Even with a blunt training sword, a clean hit left his solar plexus aching. Clutching his stomach, Torres muttered the words. No, "changed" didn't even begin to cover it.
An Associate Knight? He seemed to be at that level now.
How had his skills improved so much? The Border Guard was composed of those who challenged the limits of humanity—a gathering of individuals possessing all kinds of techniques and swordsmanship. Torres was a member of that guard, and one of those who had watched Encrid closely.
This bastard might actually become a knight.
There was a time when talking about becoming a knight was met with sarcasm, considered nothing more than a faded dream. Now, even through the eyes of others, Encrid's dream no longer seemed like a mere delusion.
“Shouldn't you address me as 'Commander,' Soldier Torres?”
“Huh?”
“I am, albeit temporarily, the Company Commander,” Encrid said, pointing to himself with his thumb.
“……Commander.”
“It's a joke.”
“You bastard,” Torres laughed.
Status was status, but relationships were relationships. There was no need to maintain a strict hierarchy with Torres or Vengeance. He wasn't their direct superior anyway. The Border Guard standing army tended to have a loose hierarchy. He had heard that in the capital garrison, you'd get beaten half to death if you misread a rank insignia, but that was there, and this was here.
“You're starting to resemble the 4th Company Commander.”
Torres's words gave Encrid pause. That elven humor?
“Whew, anyway, I'm off.”
After Torres left, several other Border Guard members requested spars. For Encrid, there was absolutely no reason to refuse.
Waking up in the morning meant practicing the Isolation Technique and training his swordsmanship. After finishing lunch...
“Time for a round, isn't it?”
Rem would challenge him. He was still incredibly powerful. If Encrid properly activated the Heart of Monstrous Strength, he might be able to close the gap, but...
If I overdo it, I won't be able to handle the afternoon training schedule.
He had already paid the price for getting carried away a few times. Encrid paced himself. This was training, not a real battle. Rem paced himself too. Getting excited and splitting Encrid's head open like before was not something Rem wanted either.
Once the lunchtime spar was over, familiar faces would show up one by one.
“Take a look at my skills too.”
Vengeance also visited often. It was his way of asking to be taught. Encrid agreed with the saying that one learns by teaching, so he never refused.
“But what about my title?”
However, because he never forgot to tease...
“Are you starting to resemble that elven Company Commander?”
He heard the exact same words he had heard from Torres.
This is, how should I put it... subtly annoying.
The weather had been beautiful for days. Since his return, except for a brief morning rain on the third day, there had been nothing but bright, sunny days.
“The weather is nice. It's a good day for training.”
“I think you said the same thing on a rainy day. Is there ever a bad day for training to you, Boss?” Rem asked from behind.
Encrid thought about it for a moment before replying. “No.”
“……If you get hit in the head one more time, you might return to normal. Even I won't give up on you, Commander. You can become a normal person!” Rem shouted passionately.
Telling him to wipe the sleep from his eyes first, Encrid went about his day, which was just like any other. It rained the next day, but his schedule remained exactly the same. It was a day copied and pasted directly from yesterday.
Many eyes in the barracks watched this. It was almost past the point of being tiresome. Rain or shine, he was just that kind of man. Nothing had changed just because his skills had improved, because he was different from before, or because he had become a Company Commander.
In other words, Encrid was simply Encrid.
*
Fifteen days after his return.
On one of those beautiful days, after their lunchtime spar, Rem wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and sat on the ground.
“That apple wine was delicious.”
Rem tossed the words out casually, but they caught in Encrid's ear. It was intuition, or perhaps his sixth sense. It felt like Rem had something to say but was beating around the bush.
Rem, beating around the bush?
Encrid thought this was an incredibly rare occurrence, so he silently waited for Rem to speak.
“If there's any left, sneak me some.”
There was none. All that remained was a tiny portion of his own share, kept strictly for emergencies. He had told Rem to sip it slowly, but the bastard had guzzled it down. There was nothing left to go into Rem's mouth.
It was a drink that even Ragna had praised—meaning everyone had enjoyed it. Sachsen had taken a couple of sips, and Audin had probably had about five.
Anyway, Rem had dodged the point twice now. Encrid figured something was up.
“Did you kill someone?” he asked, bringing up his biggest suspicion.
“Huh?”
“I asked if you killed a superior from another unit while I was gone.”
Was it something that could be cleaned up? If he hadn't been caught yet, it meant he had hidden it well. Dealing with the aftermath would be the real issue.
“What are you talking about?”
So he hadn't killed anyone?
“Did you beat someone up? Cripple them?”
This was also a major problem. But it was better than killing. He only hoped Rem hadn't gone so far as to permanent damage.
“It wasn't someone from the 1st Company, was it?”
“……I have to ask, what exactly do you take me for?”
A mad dog that snaps at the slightest touch. A lunatic who beats up superiors or anyone else he doesn't like. A perverted bastard who harasses nearby soldiers when he's bored, and harasses them twice as much if he actually likes them.
“That look in your eyes... shit, I think my feelings are seriously hurt. I've never seen a look like that in my life.”
Never in his life? That was surprising in its own right.
He had suspected it just a tiny bit, but it was mostly a joke. Exchanging a few jokes to catch their breath before heading to lunch was their usual routine. It was during this breather that Rem finally opened his mouth.
“Well, as long as you didn't kill or beat anyone, it's fine,” Encrid said.
Rem let out a long sigh, looked up at the sky, and began to speak. His gaze was cast off to the side. He was sitting under a tree about five paces away from Encrid.
Didn't Battalion Commander Marcus transplant some trees next to the training ground?
“A training ground without shade is too bleak.”
He was surprisingly meticulous. Sitting on opposite sides of the tree, Rem's voice began to drift over.
“When I was a kid, my father first taught me how to use a spear. Well, it was pretty fun.”
What was he trying to say? For some reason, the words the evil spirit of the magic sword had babbled came to mind. Families, swordsmanship, bloodlines, unfulfilled wishes. Those were the things that bound a person to the earth.
Did Rem have those things too? Weren't humans naturally bound to something? Whether it was a dream, status, power, or Krona.
“I learned to hunt, and that was fun too.”
But this guy...
“I learned the sword too, and that was fun as well.”
Did he need to be retaught how to speak? He was perfectly eloquent when teasing or harassing others, but now he was stuttering awkwardly. At times like this, he seemed to have even more openings than Ragna.
Then again, all the remaining company members were like this whenever they talked about themselves. They would get awkward and stumble over their words; teaching the sword was the only time they spoke with absolute clarity. He knew this because, even if he didn't know everything, he had picked up bits and pieces of their stories over time. Like how Rem was from the West, and Ragna was from the North.
Even so, Rem's story this time was quite unusual. Though his delivery was clumsy, the content was worth listening to.
“Around that time, the Western War broke out. It wasn't a pleasant sight, but what could I do? When people are coming to kill you, you can't just quietly offer them your neck.”
Countless wars still raged across the continent. Just recently, Naurilia had expanded its war with Azpen to seize the Greenpearl Plains. In time, that too would be given a name like the Battle of Greenpearl Plains.
And the Western War Rem spoke of had been quite horrific. Dozens of pioneer villages had each claimed their own kings. Some even called it the War for the Throne rather than the Western War. In the end, one tribe emerged victorious, but it was a pyrrhic victory. Afterward, they had to submit to the Empire under the pretext of having devastated and ruined the West.
“I used a sword back then, and that was fun too. Why are you looking at me like that?”
You damn genius bastard.
Apparently, every weapon he picked up was "fun." From the sound of it, Rem seemed to have played a major role in the Western War. Looking at his current age...
“You would have been about fifteen back then?”
“Yeah, around that.”
At a mere fifteen years old. What was I doing back then? Was I struggling desperately just to leave my village? Did I still believe I had talent? Was that the time I believed effort was all it took because time was fair to everyone?
Time was not fair. That was something obvious just from listening to Rem's story. The clock of a talented person often ticked far more fruitfully than that of someone less gifted.
“So, there's something I want to ask.”
It lacked context, made little sense, and though he knew it wasn't intentional, it was mixed with bragging about being a genius. Somewhere in there, he had also mentioned killing some bear-like guy from a neighboring tribe during the war. Encrid didn't even know who that was, so what did he care?
But at the end of it all came the question.
“Are you really going to become a knight?”
Even though it was an incredibly abrupt question, Encrid wasn't flustered at all. Perhaps it was because it was a question he constantly asked himself.
How could Encrid not have questioned himself? Can I become one? Is it possible? What is a knight?
There were no answers within those repeated questions. That was why he simply took one step forward at a time; because there was no other path, he kept walking. Literally, whether it rained or snowed. Even when the sun beat down brilliantly. Even on the road he took for his missions. Even knowing that his day might end in death.
Calling him stubborn wouldn't even begin to describe it.
“Yes.”
There was not a shred of hesitation in his reply. Encrid was calm. It was no different from any other day, and his answer was the same as always. To Rem, that felt fresh once again.
“And can you actually do it?”
“I don't know.”
It was his honest thought. No one knew the future. Especially since he didn't even believe the words of fortune-tellers.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.”
“I see.”
“Indeed.”
A few trivial words were exchanged. What followed was ordinary. Eating, resting, and sparring. Rem didn't ask any more similar questions. He was nonchalant. There was no way to know his inner thoughts.
Rem pondered. If that guy really became a knight... if he actually did...
Should I go back to retrieve what I left behind?
It was a fairly serious dilemma. The thing he had left behind when he departed his homeland. If he went back and retrieved it, even if he couldn't become what these people called a "knight," he would at least reach the level of one.
The stingy bastards of the continent narrowed the path to becoming a knight down to a single way, but Rem thought differently. And indeed, it was so. In the West, they used the word "Hero" instead of "Knight." A Hero to pioneer the continent—a term derived from ancient legends.
And Rem was the greatest among the candidates for the next generation of Heroes. He had been the greatest.
After a brief moment of contemplation, a few thoughts flashed through his mind. Watching Encrid swing his sword day and night, Rem made up his mind.
“Then I'll become a knight too.”
Rem tossed it out casually. Normally, Encrid would have teased him or made some sarcastic remark. For instance: Why bother? Beating up your superior won't make you a knight. Is your head hurting?
He expected to hear something like that, but...
“Is that so?”
Encrid's reaction was perfectly calm. What followed was an incredibly natural question.
“Spar?”
Rem found himself strangely pleased by that. Was he not an incredibly, almost miraculously consistent human being? He also quite liked how a hint of something resembling respect could be glimpsed in Encrid's tone.
* * *
Around the time Rem shared his resolution with Encrid.
Outside the territory, a person with their face wrapped in a black hood stared at the walls of the Border Guard.
It's high.
Most monsters would find it difficult to leap over. But... what about high-grade demonic beasts?
On top of that...
“It's a temporary alliance.”
Ten bandits from the Black Sword. With this much, wouldn't it be enough to stir up quite a commotion?